Gentleman's Code
by ZTX
Summary: "I know everything about you, from your childhood until now." Creed said he knows everything about me...but how much IS that, really? Does he really know everything? / Sven Centric. R&R please! :3
1. I: Auld Lang Syne

**Gentleman's Code**

ZTX

11/24/12

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Black Cat nor am I affiliated with Kentaro Yabuki.

_**I've been thinking about it a lot lately...the past.**_

_**Maybe it's because of all that's happened recently; with Train and Creed-with Eve. **_

_**Creed said he knows everything about me...but how much is that, really?**_

_**Does he really know everything?**_

I: Auld Lang Syne

_CRASH._

He awoke to the sound of her muffled screaming. Rubbing his bleary, brown eyes of sleep, he clambered out of bed and toddled to the door. Fumbling with the bulbous, brass knob and using both of his tiny hands to turn it, he pulled the door open; his eyes first meeting the bright light of an overhead lamp. He could hear crying. Across the room, a tall, slate-haired man hovered imposingly over the crumpled, crying form of a petite woman with sage green hair. She trembled as he roughly grabbed her shoulders, shaking her violently as he snarled a series of foreign words in her direction. She hissed back in the same guttural tones; flinching as he swiftly raised his hand to her.

"Mama? Are you okay?"  
The man stopped in his tracks, glancing viciously over his shoulder at the young boy standing there in the doorway. The sage-haired woman offered the child a smile, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook fearfully,

"G-Go back to bed, dear. Everything is fine."

The boy hesitated, glancing back and forth between them cautiously.

Aggravated, the slate haired man bellowed angrily at the boy,

"Go back to bed, Sven."

The five-year-old swallowed hard, still hesitant to go back to his room. At this, the slate-haired man spun around; his eyes burning angrily as he started toward the child,

"I said,_ 'go back to bed'!_"

Quickly, the boy turned tail and dashed back to the safety of his bedroom; slamming the door shut behind him as he went. He swiftly locked it, his heart racing as he scampered back to his bed and dug his way under the covers. He lay there shaking momentarily; squeezing his eyes shut as his mother's cries rang out once more...

_** My parents never did get along. Ever since I could remember, they were always at each others throats.**_

_**Eventually, I grew accustomed to their nightly song and dance...and by song and dance, I mean his fists and her tears.**_

_**I hated being unable to stop it, but short of shoving my face in front of his punches, there wasn't much I could do to help her.**_

The boy, a few years older now, straightened as he heard yelling again, pushing away from his desk and the trinket he had been working on as he hurried to the door. He opened it only a crack at first. His father was screaming at his mother again, in that same language that he could only pick up bits and pieces of. He said something about 'leaving'. The boy straightened as his mother then came into view, suit case in hand as she shoved her way passed the screaming man. Gasping, he threw open his door and rushed after her, pushing his father aside on the way out. He followed her down the stairs and to the street, eyes wide as she made her way to a waiting taxi.

"Mama!"

She stopped at reaching it, gasping softly upon seeing the small boy. The air was cold enough that she could see his breath and he was not wearing a jacket. Sighing deeply, she set her suitcase down and waved him over. He ran to her quickly and threw his arms around her; squeezing his eyes shut,

"Where are you going?"

The woman pulled away from him with a smile and took off her coat. She draped it around his shoulders as she nervously glanced back at the slate-haired man standing at the door,

"On a trip."

"Where?"

The lime-haired boy pressed, his tiny frame beginning to shiver. She rubbed his shoulders to warm him up, and smiled,

"Back home...to Sonia. To visit your grandmother."

He sniffled, his nose beginning to run due to the cold,

"When will you...be back?"

The sage-haired woman paused at this, her mouth falling open slightly. With a deep sigh, she pulled the little boy back into her arms and he could feel her beginning to shake,

"Mama?"  
"You be good...Sven."

There were tears in her eyes as she pulled away, and she stood, refusing to look back at him even as he called to her,

"Mama?"

Rounding the car, she placed her suitcase in the open trunk and slammed it shut; keeping her head down. She then climbed into the back seat and shut her door. The taxi pulled away a few minutes later, and he scampered into the street after it; confused.

He pulled the coat tighter as it rounded the corner; disappearing from his sight.

_** I was eight years old the last time I saw her. I guess she had finally grown tired of being his punching bag.**_

_**At the time, I couldn't understand why she had gone. I thought I had been the problem. **_

_**It took me a long time to realise that wasn't the case.**_

He sat alone on the sidewalk, her white coat still draped around his small shoulders. It had been a few hours since she had left and he could feel the temperature steadily dropping as he sat there. He shivered, pulling it tighter.

She didn't say when she would be back. Maybe she just didn't know?

_ Or maybe she wasn't __**coming**__ back._

He felt a hot tear hit his cheek as a cold wind blew through him; the droplet slowly beading down his tiny nose. He felt confused.

What had he done wrong?

"You okay, Sven?"

He gasped at the sound of a voice and glanced up to see a young girl about his age standing beside him. She had chocolate-brown skin and her fluffy, black hair was pulled up into a pair of pigtails. She sat down next to him on the curb and locked arms with him, resting her head on his shoulder,

"It's okay. My mom left me, too."

At this, the boy could not hold back his tears.

Bowing his head, he softly began to cry and the girl sighed, putting her arms around him.

_**Her name was Claudia. Claudia Clements.**_

After a few minutes, she pulled away and offered him a smile,

"My dad and I are gonna go to the Square to watch the ball drop. You wanna come?"

Wiping his eyes, the boy nodded shortly and stood with her. She took his hand as they hurried off toward the neighbouring apartment complex. Her father stepped out as they reached the door, the dark-skinned man looking startled as he spotted the tiny boy with his daughter,

"Where on Earth are your shoes, child?"

The boy smiled sheepishly, nervously glancing back toward the adjacent building. Sighing deeply, the man turned and headed back inside. A few seconds later, he returned with a pair of Claudia's old sneakers in hand,

"Let's hope you don't mind pink. I don't think nobody will be lookin' at your shoes, anyhow."

They just barely fit on him.

Shaking his head, the man then opened the car door for the children and ushered them in.

_**She was my best friend, my ONLY friend, and not only that...**_

They now stood in the packed Square, Claudia bouncing excitedly next to him as the countdown began. Her father stood behind them, hands on their shoulders as the crowd counted loudly.

_"10, 9, 8..."_

He gazed up at the ball as it slowly sunk down the pole, glittering brightly in the night sky. The tiny girl grabbed his hand as it drew closer to the bottom,

_"...7...6..5..."_

He glanced over at her, a smile hitting his lips. It was hard to be sad when she was so happy.

_"...4...3...2..."_

She threw their locked hands up into the air as the ball flashed brightly, touching the base of the pole as the sky erupted with confetti,

_"1!"_

Turning, she gave Sven a quick peck on the cheek and the boy blushed; gasping softly. He watched for a moment as Claudia then turned to her father, who hoisted her up into his loving arms. Smiling, Sven turned his gaze back to the glowing ball, the new year flashing brightly beneath it.

1980.

_**...she's the reason I'm who I am today.**_

* * *

_**A/N: I'm baaaack~  
**_

_**Happy New Year, guys~! :3  
**_


	2. II: THe Gentleman's Code

II: The Gentleman's Code

_**I grew up in a place called 'Ruckland Heights', located in Sangeles City's southern quarter.**_

_**It's really no place for a family to settle down, but when money is tight you take whatever you can get.**_

_**And as kids, we made the best of it.**_

"Lookit this!"

Claudia exclaimed, as she rummaged through a series of old boxes. Sven blinked as she pulled out a dusty, black fedora; his brown eyes wide,

"Wow, it's just like_ Frankie's_!"

"You _would_ say that," she said, blowing the dust from it's brim as she let out a longing sigh,

"I was thinkin' more like _Michael_."

"You _would_ say that," he grumbled in reply as she put it on and ran to the mirror.

She made a few poses and giggled, the tiny boy groaning with boredom. With a pout, she turned and marched back over to him, slamming it down on his head,

"Fine, _you _try it on!"

Quickly, he took the hat off and carefully punched out the dents she had created; proceeding to coddle and fuss over it as though it were a baby. Claudia rolled her eyes at this; murmuring softly,

"Get on with it, _weirdo_..."

"_Fine_!"

He stood and trotted over to the mirror, first slicking back his hair in a rather choreographed manner. Claudia let out a loud snicker as he put it on and tugged at his shirt as though it were a fine jacket,

"You're such a _dork_!"

"Shut up! I am _not_!"

_THUMP THUMP_.

The children jumped as they heard a knocking at the floor boards and Sven swallowed hard, quickly taking the hat off and handing it back to her,

"I gotta go."

The tiny girl nodded as she stood up and gave him a hug; a worried look on her face,

"See you tomorrow, Sven."

"Yeah..."

He headed back down the stairs, resembling a puppy with his tail between his legs as he met his father at the bottom. Claudia peeked over the stairs, biting her lip as she watched the older man grab the boy roughly by his arm and shove him out the door. Her father stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder in comfort as she let out a whimper.

~ø~

"What have I told you about hanging around that girl!?"

The boy whimpered as he fell to the ground; his face already beginning to bruise. He wiped at the blood trickling from his nose, but could not get it to stop. The slate-haired man glared down at him with disgust,

"Who knows what you'll catch playing with that little monkey."

_**Sanngriðr Vollfied. My father. A.K.A; the most hateful man in the world. He hated everyone he'd ever come into contact with; Claudia, my mother, -even me. **_

"_Stop_ calling her names," the tiny boy spat back, narrowing his eyes,

"It _isn't _nice!"

He grunted, receiving a swift sock to the jaw.

"I'll _call_ her what I like," Sann quipped; pulling the boy up by the collar of his shirt. He dragged him across the floor, throwing him inside his bedroom,

"Now, get out of my sight! You're_ filthy_!"

_**I don't think there was a single compassionate bone in his body.**_

The boy gasped as he heard the door slam and groaned softly; pushing himself up off the ground. Dusting off his pants, he winced as he gingerly brushed his fingertips against the swelling sections of his face. It was already beginning to bruise. Good. Just what he needed.

Letting out a deep sigh, he trotted over to the small television set that sat on his dresser and picked up a small cassette. He placed it into the player and hurried back over to his bed as the tape began to play. Grabbing a tissue from his nightstand, he put it to his nose and let it soak up whatever fresh blood was still leaking from it.

_**I used to worship old movies as though they were a religion. Classic noir made for the perfect escape to a boy as trapped as I was; especially the detective dramas. Bogart's films were personal favourites. **_

_'"When a man's partner is killed, he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. And it happens we're in the detective business. Well, when one of your organization gets killed, it's-it's bad business to let the killer get away with it, bad all around, bad for every detective everywhere..."' _

The boy smiled at the flickering images on his television and pulled his pillow closer.

_**The films I watched; the books I read. They raised me. **_

_**They were my parents-my role models.**_

_**From them, I drew up a series of guidelines for myself- a set of rules to live by. **_

_** A code. **_

_** MY code.**_

_** The Gentleman's Code.**_

Sven kept his eyes fixed on the screen; silently studying the actor's movements. Plucking a crayon off of his desk, he mimicked the actor's long draws of his cigarette. The boy frowned as his tooth accidently brushed the waxy coating and quickly spit it out. There had to be a better way of doing this. He then remembered. His father normally kept his cigarettes in the kitchen. Quietly and cautiously, the tiny boy opened his door a crack and glanced out into the dark living space.

He didn't seem to be around.

Sven tip-toed to the kitchen and carefully began rummaging through each drawer. It only took him three tries to find them. He grabbed a book of matches as well and scampered back to his room.

_**I was ten when I first started. I kept it to a minimum; just one here and there. I didn't want dear old dad finding out I was siphoning his smokes, after all. **_

The boy swallowed hard as he carefully lit the cigarette between his lips; glancing back and forth between the flame and the screen.

When it finally lit, he smiled triumphantly and took a long drag. He paused.

_**And I have to admit...**_

His face turned a shade _greener_ than his hair.

_**It was probably the worst decision I've ever made.**_

The boy sputtered, smoke billowing from his lips and nostrils as he quickly ran and opened his window.

_'"BLEGGH!"'_

_**But in order to be a gentleman, I had to look the part-no matter what that entailed.**_

_**Aesthetics were key. **_

Placing the cigarette on the windowsill, he stumbled over to his closet; still feeling a little sick. He rifled through his clothes, a deep scowl on his face. Nothing in here would do. He frowned and stepped back from his closet; a look of disappointement on his face.

The sound of a slam drew his attention and he straightened. Trotting to his door, he opened it a crack and peeked out into the living room again. No one was there. He tip-toed out and glanced around, noting that the car keys were missing from the table. His father had gone out for the evening.

Swallowing hard, he hurried to the man's bedroom and smiled as he peered into his closet. His father owned a vast collection of suit jackets_-_surely one of them was suitable enough for a gentleman. The boy quickly went to work, checking each one for the appropriate look. He finally found one, in the form of a slick, black jacket. Picking it from the hangar, he grinned as he turned to leave. He frowned as he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Turning back to the closet, Sven raised an eyebrow; kneeling down beside a cardboard box. The box seemed ordinary, it's only oddity being that of the white lace that peeked out of it. Upon opening it, he found the contents to be that of a pure, white wedding veil. Next to it lay a picture of a woman with sage-green hair. The boy sighed deeply as he picked up the picture and held it for a moment. It was hard to believe that it had already been two years since she left. Shaking his head, he set the picture back down on the veil and closed the box up.

_** Looking back on that day, I wish I had paid more attention. **_

_**Because life, the way I had known it, was about to change forever...**_

* * *

**A/N: I don't really have anything to put here. It just felt wrong not having an author's note. ;D_  
_**


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